Dance 101
by Twisted-Web-Tales
Summary: The one where each Nation tries to teach Australia how to dance! He's completely rhythmless and utterly unprepared for the upcoming 'World Ball'. Can he learn to shake it in enough ways to impress!
1. The Foxtrot

The Foxtrot- England.

"But I already know how to dance!" Australia groaned, shoulders drooping in disdain at the whole ridiculous idea. England scoffed, crossing the large empty ballroom towards the large, brass gramophone that sat proudly in its corner.

"You mean that absolute dribble where you paint yourself up and jump around like a wild animal to appease the grass? I would hardly call that 'dancing' Australia." He quipped over his shoulder. "No, I'm talking about 'real' dancing."

"That _is_ 'real' dancing!" Aus grumbled annoyedly, crossing his tanned arms over his chest. "And it's called 'Corroboree', we dance to interact with the Dreamtime- not the grass."

"Mmhmm..." England responded slowly, running his hand over the old music machine, he wasn't really listening. That annoyed the Aussie- dad never listened when he spoke about his own dying culture.

"Besides." Australia continued a bit louder, uncrossing his arms. "I've never had to learn to dance before."

England picked an old cover from the vast selection on a nearby shelf, dusting it off. "That was because you were a young child, a colony and nobody expected you too." He stated pointedly, pulling out the vinyl record to place it onto the turntable gently. "But now, you are an independent Nation and these kind of formalities will be expected of you at the up and coming Ball- and all Formal events in the future." He explained firmly as he began winding the old gramophone's large side handle.

Australia was no longer that small, wide eyed, disobedient, reckless child that clung to his pant leg; he had grown up.

Into a disobedient, reckless young man. Who needed to learn to dance correctly.

Personally England blamed himself for never taking the time from his busy day to day schedule to teach any of his Colonies the proper English way to dance.

That wasn't quite true, he had taught America.

Then he had left.

"Well, why isn't that bloody Kiwi here learning too?" Australia fired back, his voice childishly annoyed at the whole ridiculous situation. England fought back an eye roll as he placed the long needle onto the now spinning record. The gramophone seemed to make a few loud, crackling protests before finally producing a torrent of rhythmic, upbeat classical music from its large brass speaker.

"Your brother is currently busy on 'super top secret spy stuff, chill dad it's cool.'" England quoted with his fingers in the air sarcastically as he crossed the large room to rejoin his older son, fast-ish music now flowing clearly through the air around them. "I suspect he is just avoiding me. But fear not, I will be teaching New Zealand just the same as I am teaching you- I can't have him running around in his undies pulling horrid faces at guests and dancing around in paint." England shivered at the memories.

"It's called the Haka." Australia stated in understanding as England pulled up in front of him. This time the Brit couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"It's called embarrassing. Now, what I am going to teach you is called the 'Foxtrot'." England wasted not time in collecting one of Australia's large, calloused hands in his own smaller one and holding it professionally. "You are slightly taller then me, so I'm going to have you lead. Place your other hand on my upper back."

Australia groaned but did as he was instructed, drawing them uncomfortably close as England placed his other hand onto his sons shoulder.

Gah this was lame.

"Start with your feet together- excellent. Now I want you to take two moderate steps forward, and try not to step on my feet!" He instructed firmly as Australia's head fell to stare at his own feet, taking two careful, slightly uneven steps forward just like instructed. England glided gracefully backwards with him, his back and head slightly arched outward for presentation, a compliment to his sons's awkward footwork.

"Now, step sidewards and forward with your left foot and close your feet once more."

Australia wobbled slightly but did as instructed, his eyes never leaving his own shoes- brow creased with concentration. England followed swiftly with him as they moved, playing his own roll perfectly all the while teaching another.

Things were going well so far, that was surprising.

"You're doing remarkably well. Now, we take two steps back, but on the opposite feet- I guide this part, so just glide past my feet like I have been doing around you." The blond instructed quickly.

Wait, what?

The Brit began walking them backwards instantly, not giving Australia's brain time to register his instructions. With two extremely awkward miniature steps back, Australia found himself gripping England's hand tighter then before; almost falling onto his own ass. This was much more difficult then just dancing around in paint.

And not nearly as much fun.

The Brit ignored the awkward blunder and just focused on finishing the steps. Australia was doing well, all things considered. The man had very little rhythm but he could fix that.

"Then you lead me through yet another sidewards turn, but in the other direction, and we repeat the process. Simple." England instructed as the upbeat classical tune of the music had them slowly performing each step. "But it is much faster then this and far less...wobbly." He added, staring at the top of his son's head as they repeated every step together slowly, Aus's eyes never leaving his feet, his tongue hanging out slightly as he concentrated.

He was kinda proud of himself, yes this was stupid and dumb. But he was doing it!

The two repeated the steps over and over until England had enough confidence in the other man to quicken their snail-like pace.

"Now, stop looking at your feet and look me in the eyes! A gentleman must be completely in grossed with their partner but also maintain his perfect grace and be aware of others dancing around him. You are the guide and the host!"

How was he meant to be all those things at once!? That's impossible! He would need eyes on the back of his head!

Australia gulped but raised his head to level his eyes with the other man. It was a struggle at first, flying blind and with the added extra speed Australia would fall out of sync with the music and proceed to mix up their footwork, causing England to have his poor feet stomped upon by the bigger man.

"Oops...sorry mate."

And they would start from the top.

Stomp.

"Oops..."

From the top.

Stomp.

"My bad, sorry."

...from the top!

Stomp.

"Shit..."

FROM THE TOP!

Needless to say, it was going to be a long afternoon indeed.

In the end, after hours of stop and repeat actions they had finally achieved some small semblance of actual dancing. England had to restart the record more then a few times and his feet where in complete agony, but he had done it!...kinda. He still had to work on Australia's presentation, not to mention the lad looks like a bloody stunned cod with that intense, awkward concentration on his face. But that would come with practice.

A lot of practice.

"Well done my boy, you can now sort of Foxtrot!" The British Nation congratulated as he crossed the large space and took the needle off the spinning record, plunging the empty room into sudden silence. "It may be one of the more simplistic variations of English Ballroom Dance- but at least you can now perform it!" He took the record off the turntable and placed it into its case gently.

Australia groaned. That was meant to be simplistic? That was a bloody nightmare! He felt like he could forget all the steps already, not to mention it was hard to move freely or comfortably in military clothes- let along a fancy dress military suit needed for the ball.

"That sucked." He complained, crossing his arms. He felt like he had just wasted far too many hours of his life learning something he'll never really need to use more then once. He could be out in the bush with Bruce (his Koala) right now chasing roos or tackling crocs! You know, having fun!

"Oh, perk up lad!" England stated, placing the covered record back into the shelf. "This dance is the easiest compared to the others you'll learn."

What?

Wait...others?

He'll have to learn!?

What!? NO!

"What!? Why do I have to learn more!?" Australia's eyes where wide with disbelief. "Isn't one enough!?" He demanded and England laughed, walking back over slowly to his distressed son.

"Of course not! My boy, the Foxtrot is an _English_ dance. To fit into this world and not appear a complete savage, you must learn many different dances from all around the world." He explained, watching the taller man's shoulders droop, his face become blank. Was he going into shock?

"But...I..."

"At almost every World Ball you will be required to partake in traditional dance with many a different Nation. So you will need to learn to move the way they do as to not offend." He explained to his open mouthed son. Seriously, was he in shock?

The Aussie seemed to take a small moment to process this information before he blinked and shut his mouth, expression becoming fairly annoyed.

That's not fair! This was bloody rubbish!

"No way! Get stuffed!" Australia finally bellowed. "I can barely dance with you without stepping on ya! How am I supposed to learn a whole bunch more bloody dance moves!?" He was seriously panicking now, the World Ball wasn't that far away at all! Like only a few months away! How many dances did he have to learn? Like 500!?

Up until now, he hadn't even been aware he had to know ANY types of dance, now he suddenly needed to be an expert! Not fair!

"Screw that, I'm not gonna go to the stupid bloody Ball!" He decided and England frowned at him, eyebrows serious.

"You have to go Australia, if you don't you're looking at some very upset and insulted Nations- maybe even war." He was firm in his words, it wasn't a choice.

Well this sucks.

"Do _you_ know all the dances?" Aus questioned slowly, running a hand through his brown hair.

"Of course, I'm much older then you."

"Can you teach me the important ones then?" He asked, his face suddenly hopeful.

England shook his head and that hopeful expression plummeted into panic once again.

"It's best you learn the dances the way I did, from the Nations that created them. If you would like, I can make a few phone calls and set up a few lessons." The Brit offered to his distressed son. "I'm sure all will be more then happy to share some of their own culture, as barbaric as some are, with you." He placed a hand on the taller mans shoulder supportively.

It was really England's fault if he was being completely honest, he had completely neglected this side of their education when his Colonies had been growing up. Now it seemed, it was a little late. But to be fair, Australia had shot up like a damn weed; maturing a lot quicker then he had expected.

Australia was silent in his response, so England squeezed his shoulder lovingly. He would take that as a 'Yes please Father, I would very much appreciate dance lessons.'

Good.

"I'll make the calls tonight." He assured his son who was not looking ok.

This was impossible! Seriously impossible.

Goodbye freedom, adventure and fun.

"Hey, cheer up- New Zealand is in the same boat as you."

And then a smile pulled at the edges of Australia's lips at that statement. That's right! That Kiwi was also just as much up shit creek as he was! That made him feel a little better! A little.

Because now, Australia could turn this tortures turn of events into something a lot more bearable. A lot more fun.

A competition!

And Aussie's hated to lose!

...

It begins! I just like the idea of Australia being just the most uncultured swine when it came to dancing and parties! Like, he's super great and into different sports and stuff, but just sucks bananas at getting his groove on!

What Nation do you want to see teach him next!?

I personally am looking forward to Spain and Germany...:)


	2. The Waltz

**The Waltz** \- Germany.

Australia didn't really know what to expect when he pulled open those huge wooden doors and walked into England's old, empty Ballroom. He shuffled in a unwillingly, he really didn't want to be back here. He was greeted by soft, slow classical music that was both mesmerising and very very old, it filled the empty space around him.

The empty ballroom's many large glass windows let the bright, morning sun fill the room perfectly and as Aus walked in he spotted the sunlit outline of a tall man standing with his hands behind his back, looking out at the countryside view on the other side of the room. He couldn't see that man's front side, but he knew that distinct green military uniform and clean blond haircut anywhere. Wait...was that..?

"You're late." The man didn't turn around as he spoke, his voice stern and thick with that scary ass accent.

The Aussie swallowed. Oh no it was him, no doubt about it.

Germany.

His green eyes seemed to widen in slight shock.

His dance teacher for today was Germany!? Really!? What's this psycho going to teach him? How to perform the correct footwork while slaughtering the innocent!? Seriously!

Australia took a steady breath inward to calm himself.

No. He shouldn't think that, Germany himself was an ok sort of bloke, scary, but ok.

It was his government history and the ideals of his people that had a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock.

Keep an open mind Aus.

So he smiled, throwing up his hand in a friendly manner as he crossed the room towards the older man.

"Germany! G'day mate! Sorry about running a tad behind on ya!"

The tall, muscular blond spun around, his face just as displeased as ever, at what the Aussie did not know- he suspected the German was just born looking like that.

"Nein nein, it is fine. Velcome Australia." He responded with a slight sigh, unclasping his hands from behind his back in order to shake the Australian's friendly extended one politely.

"Did England give you a call?" The tall brunette questioned, drawing his hand back after the pleasantries where out of the way. "Cheers for coming on such short notice."

"He did, and it's fine. I very much appreciate you vanting to learn eins of my traditional Ballroom dances." The blond replied, back straight and formal as he stared down at the slouching, wild young man. So different.

'Wanting to learn' is that what England had told everyone. More like 'has no choice but to learn!'

But he wouldn't complain, not to Germany. The guy might crush him...or experiment on him. He knew the history, saw the facts.

"Yeah, no problem mate... so, what are we learning today...?" Australia placed his hands on his hips, rocking on the balls of his feet as his eyes drifted around the room.

There was a slight pause of silence between both Nations with nothing but classical music to fill the void. God this was awkward. The big German was a man of very few words it would seem, Australia on the other hand was not. The silence, no matter how short, was unbearable! How did Italy deal with it?

Well that's an easy question, with Italy there was no silence. That bloke was a complete wolly.

"Die Valtz"

"The Waltz?"

"Ja. No doubt you have heard of it." Germany walked over to England's old gramophone and lifted the needle, stopping the soft music instantly. "It is a vondeful classic from mein Country and zee most popular ballroom dance around zee vold."

Of course Australia had heard of the Waltz, it was one of France and England's favourite things to perform at their fancy dinner parties. Like really fancy parties, the ones he wasn't invited to when he was young but would go anyway because the food was yummy.

For some reason, the sudden idea of the hulking German teaching him this elegant form of dancing seemed near impossible. It was Germany after all.

"Yeah, I've heard of it- seen France dance it too." Aus replied finally, turning to stare at the other man. "It's real fancy, kinda fast."

"Nein." The German shook his head, placing a gloved hand onto his hip. "Zat vas die Viennese Valtz- it is French and incorrect."

"Oh..."

Germany reset the record and replaced the long needle, restarting the slow classical melody to play once again.

"Zee Valtz is a graceful, truly romantic dance. Slow and comprised of round, flowing movements." The taller man wasted no time unbuttoning his green uniform jacket, shrugging it off to place next to the old music machine before he marched over to the young Aussie. "Take mein hand."

Oh ok, right into it then. At least buy me a beer first.

Australia complied quickly, not daring to complain as his fingers interlocked firmly with those strong, gloved ones.

"I'm zee lead, place your hand on mein shoulder." He instructed firmly and the younger man nodded, swallowing. He doesn't feel comfortable being the girl.

It made sense, Germany was much taller then he was. But that didn't mean he had to like it. Aus placed his hand firmly onto Germany's broad, muscular shoulder and the blond replied by sliding his right hand around to rest on the younger Nation's middle back.

"Zee Valtz is romantic, traditionally zee faces of zee partners will be close. So close zey vill touch." And on cue, Germany tighten his grip on the younger man, drawing him in unbelievably close so the side of Australia's forehand rest on the taller man's clean shaven, strong jaw line. Well...this is new.

Um...it felt like they were hugging. He was basically hugging Germany!

A small flush of bright Crimson tipped the skippy's ears and he looked up into the bigger mans clear blue eyes. If Germany felt awkward or uncomfortable, it did not show on his stern face. Germany was a hugger, who knew?

No. Focus.

"Now, zee Valtz is a three step sequence. Forward, back, step to zee side, feet together." He began firmly. "Zee timing of zee steps is one, two three. One two three. Eins, zwei, drei!"

Australia nodded slightly, his chest tight from being pushed so close to the other man. "One, two, three- got it."

"Good. Now, stand on mein shoes, I vill teach you zee correct way to spin. So you might understand."

What. He can't be serious!

"...R-really?" The Aussie questioned quietly, he can't be serious! He hasn't danced on someone's feet since he was just a wee an ankle biter dancing with England at a parties! Germany's stern face said he was indeed deadly serious. The younger man sighed quietly but did as he was instructed, standing onto the bigger mans feet.

He was so glad England and New Zealand weren't here to watch. He would just die of embarrassment.

"Feel zee music, zee movements. Ven vee spin, roll your head sideward, arch your back and extend you arm." The classical melody set them up to dance.

"Forward." Germany swept forward gracefully, carrying Australia like he weighed nothing- that was a little demeaning, Australia kinda prided himself on being big and tough.

"Back."

He glided backwards effortlessly.

"Side step- spin." He glided them around with all the grace of a professional dancer and as they whisked around, Australia arched his back, lolling his head graceful-ishly sidewards...kinda. He felt himself blushing like mad when he straightened back up into position and his face came back to press against the other man. One wrong move of their heads and it would technically be kissing. He couldn't handle that, not with Germany.

Honestly, he felt stupid with each step the older Nation repeated, he wasn't as shapely or flexible as a woman so no doubt it looked strange. But Germany said nothing so he must be doing something correctly. He hoped.

They glided around the large empty, sunlit ballroom together in wide, whisking circles, the tall blond holding the smaller man tight to him, then not, then tight again. It really did feel like a romantic dance- which is what made everything much more awkward. Germany was probably the furthest person he associated with 'romantic' when it came to the wild skippy.

More like...terrifying. Yeah, terrifying was a much better description.

France and Spain were romantic, Germany was terrifying.

But he did feel supported in the tall man's big strong arms, that had to count for something.

Their slow movements lining up perfectly to the soft, classical melody and with each fluent step the German took Australia felt himself growing more and more confident; he even felt himself smiling. It was kinda fun, it felt like he was flying.

As they came to a stop, Germany was nodding in approval. Not smiling, he probably didn't know how to. But nodding was close enough.

"Vell done Australia, now vee practise your footsteps."

God it had been a long process. It had taken them hours to perfect each individual dance step- and it _needed_ to be perfect or Germany would make them start over from the beginning. Like, right at the beginning where Australia would need to ride around on his shoes like a child. So degrading!

It had been surprising to say the least, the German seemed to be so patient and calm when Australia stuffed up the movements (probably from all the time spent around Italy) and eventually the brunette stopped apologising after every tiny mistake. Only really mumbling "sorry" every time he stomped on his toes. Which was not as often as yesterday with England, thank heavens. He really didn't want to risk pissing the man off.

Patient and calm, but very strict. He had kind of expected that though, the muscular blond didn't let them stop for lunch, nor did he allow much (any) chit-chat that wasn't relative to the lesson. Germany was there to teach, and teach he did. No looking at your feet, keep your eyes on mein eyes. Keep the beat, follow the steps and arch your back, twirl.

Spin.

Start again.

Slower. Faster. Tighter.

Spin.

Spin.

By the end of the lesson they were sweeping around the large empty ballroom together fairly elegantly, the Skippy grinning proudly from ear to ear. A little more confident in his own ability.

Beat that New Zealand!

England had come to watch them, he stood leaning against the ornate wall, clapping the 'one, two, three' in time with the soft music and their slow steps, smiling.

In the end, Germany had left England's large home with a small, satisfied smile (it was truly a shocking, rare, kinda scary sight); stating how happy he would be to dance with the Australian at the upcoming World Ball. Sweet!

That made the Aussie grin. Well, until England reminded him that he would indeed still be playing the female roll. Oh...

In front of everyone. Shit!

Great, he can't pull off a pretty dress like New Zealand could, he was too muscular.

Not to mention he loved eating England's scones far too much to maintain a dress suitable figure.

Speaking of scones, he was starving. That damn German bastard had practically starved him. Stupid dance lessons could wait.

He needed lunch!

...

Because I just see Germany picking up Australia and spinning him around like a big, giant ballerina! Who do you want to see next!?


	3. The Tango

**The Tango-** Spain

"You're going to need this."

Australia gave England a quizzical stare before his eyes fell to inspect the gift. It was a big beautiful red rose, picked straight from the Brit's own garden; it had a fairly long stem which had been stripped of thorns and held a wonderfully sweet smell. Why would he need this? That's strange.

He stared back up at England again, his eyes narrowing curiously before he turned to pull open the large wooden ballroom doors. England clasped his sons shoulder supportively before the younger Nation entered.

"Have fun."

Something about the Pom's tone as he walked away had Australia spinning on his heels to watch him go, eyes slightly worried as the big doors fell shut behind him- blocking out his view of the outside hallway. What does he mean 'fun'? What fresh horrors lay install for him today?! Surely it must not be so bad if flowers were involved.

That or it was really _really_ bad. Honestly, the Skippy was flying blind these days.

"Hola Australia!" Came the cheerful greeting from behind him. Australia turned around quickly and grinned, his grip on the delicate rose tightening ever so slightly.

Spain stood in the middle of the large empty ballroom, he had his jacket off and his white dress shirt rolled up to his tanned elbows. He was smiling happily, already set up for their lesson.

Well this won't be so bad after all.

"G'day Spain! Good to see ya mate!" Australia strode forward casually across the room towards the other man extending his hand politely in greeting. The handsome Spaniard shook the offered appendage firmly in return before pulling him in close to kiss each of the Aussie's cheeks fondly in greeting.

He liked Spain, he was a good, fun bloke to know.

"You too my amigo! It's been too long!" He released the younger, Crimson flushed male with a grin before his eyes fell on the red rose in the Aussie's grasp. "Ah! You have brought la rose, good thinking!" The olive skinned man took the flower delicately from Aus's grip and smelt it deeply. Letting out a happy sigh as he exhaled. "No doubt it will help la danze feel much more...passionate!"

What?

He must have heard that wrong.

"What are we leaning today mate? The Cha-Cha? The...the..." Australia trailed off, thinking. He really didn't know the names of any other dances, that's awkward.

Spain shook his head, smiling brightly.

"No! La Cha-Cha is of Cuban descent! No, today we danze..." The Spaniard lifted the rose to place the stem between his lips and take a quick, hip swishing twirl on the spot. "La Tango!"

"The Tango?" Australia had heard of that, but he didn't realise it was a dance. Whenever France would propose doing the 'sidewards Tango' with him, he had always assumed it was some kind of weird sport.

It was not, Australia had found that out the hard way. He shivered at the memory.

"Sí! La Tango! It is a wild, firey danze of passion!" Spain explained, taking the rose from his lips- his green eyes bright with a new passion of his own. "Sensual and romantic! A danze between lovers, hot and heavy as two bodies move and sweat to la musics!"

Well damn.

Ok then.

Australia clasp his hands together nervously. "O-ok then! Should...should we begin?" I've never done 'two bodies moving and sweating to the music' before, at least not while dancing.

Should be interesting. The Spaniard seemed invigorated but the Australia's willingness to learn.

"Sí! I want to start with your basic movements!" The tanned man began, reaching upwards and placing the rose stem gently between Aus's lips. "Hold onto this tight." He did.

"Like how you moved your hips before?" The brunette asked, referencing that spin performed earlier, hi voice slightly obscured from the plant now resting on his mouth. Spain nodded before he came to stand behind the Australian, placing his tanned hands firmly on either side of the younger man's slim hips, drawing him back to fit snugly against the Spaniard's pelvis.

Um...

Ok then. Right into it.

"What about music?" The younger man managed to squeak lowly, it felt so awkward.

Not as awkward as yesterday, but still awkward. Seriously, will no one at least buy him a beer first!?

He should probably at least be glad that he was doing this with Spain rather then Dad or Germany. Or France- not going there again.

"Music comes in later- first, we learn to _move!"_ Spain explained with passion from behind Aus's flushed ear. "Now, relax your body and sway your hips in time with mine- this is key!."

They began slowly, their bodies swaying together to musicless silence before they felt comfortable enough to picked up their speed. Spain had been right, this dance was meant for sensual, passionate lovers.

They were not. Or at least, Australia was not.

"Place your hand and arm backwards to go around my neck and hold me close." He instructed and Aus did as he was told- awkwardly reaching backwards and grabbing the nape of the other man's neck.

Awkwardly embracing the older man behind him felt kinda wrong. Like they were long time sweethearts and lovers caught in such an interment moment. But wasn't that the illusion of the Tango!?

They way Spain dipped his head down to nestle lovingly into his neck was also just a little weird. But who was Aus to judge? He knew nothing about this kind of dance.

It was just the swaying of their pelvises side to side to begin with, then it eventually turned into the smooth swivel of their hips as hey pushed forward and back rhythmically together. The experienced older Nation humming the 'one two three four' of the imaginary beat into Australia ear supportively.

"Now we move forward together." The older brunette instructed calmly, holding the younger man's hips firmly as they took two, hip swivelling steps forward together with surprising rhythm.

"And backwards." They moved backwards together before Spain moved his hands to slide up Australia's toned torso and grab his free hand. Oh my.

"Release and spin out." He stated and Aus found himself spinning out from the close hold, still holding his partners tanned hand. Silently thanking Germany for teaching him how.

"Wonderful! Now spin back in but face me instead."

And he did, spinning back into the other man, slightly ungraceful as they came back face to face, hips together once again. They repeated the simple steps again.

"Forward. Forward"

They moved closely together in the silence. Slowly.

"Back. Back."

Their faces unbearably close, their hands now together. The rose quivering ever so slightly between Australia's trembling lips. He was breathing hard with nervousness, this kind of dancing was sooooo embarrassing!

"Maravilloso Aus!" Spain cheered supportively as they continued to repeat the simple steps over and over again; their bodies intwined together. "Now, lift your left leg up high onto my hip and lean your weight against me when you come back in from our big spin!"

What?

"I shall spin you around before I dip you low! When that happens, arch your back upwards and bring your mouth close to mine so I might take la rose from you!"

Wait...WHAT!? No bloody way that was possible!

"What!?" Surprise laced Australia's muffled tone. Doing that would surely cause them to topple to the ground. "Mate, I'm a tad heavy to be doing that!"

"Trust me Aus! La Tango is a danze of passion and trust!" Spain tried to assure him with a confident smile. It really wasn't helping. I mean, yes Spain was around his height and mass, but was he really strong enough to do this!? He wasn't a Sheila after all.

If his dance partner was Germany or America, he'd be fine with it- they were both inhumanly strong. But it was Spain!

"But..." The skippy trailed off as the older Nation released him and walked across the empty ballroom promptly to the old gramophone. He placed the needle down gently onto a pre-chosen record, allowing music to fill up the room around them. It was not like any music Australia was familiar with at all, it was rather fast and smooth with a lot of guitar, very Spanish sounding.

He liked it.

"Listen to me! In this danze, I become your lover, Australia. Your job is to trust me, seduce me- show all who are watching that passion is alive between us!" Spain rejoined the doubtful young man once again, taking his calloused hand firmly and pulling him in ridiculously tight. "That is la Tango! Do you trust your lover Australia!?" He asked, green eyes alive with firey resolve.

Australia swallowed hard, but nodded. Shit!

He did.

"Good!" Spain grinned happily as they began their beginning movements once more.

Forward. Forward- hips pressed together.

This was not going to end well.

Back. Back- their faces touching ever so slightly.

Seriously, bad idea mate!

Spin, in and out.

Spain was his lover? What?

Forward. Forward.

No, focus. He had to at least trust the guy, he was the professional here.

Back. Back.

Trust the guy.

Spin.

Australia span out gracefully from the sensual hold of his partner, making sure to swivel his hips accordingly to the new beat before he found himself being pulled back it by that tugging tanned hand. He fell back into place against the other man and the handsome Spaniard wasted no time shifting his hold on the lad, whisking him around widely. As they came to a spinning stop, Australia swallowed nervously and brought up his left leg up to sit against the older Nation's hip and shifted all his weight to it- completely giving himself over to the tomato lover.

Trust him.

Spain smiled supportively, twirling them around once again before dipping the young Aussie low and backwards, he leaned himself down too- drawing their faces together.

Australia didn't hesitate, he arched his back the way Germany had taught him while doing the Waltz, pressing their lips together, parting his own so that Spain could take the rose from him and into his own mouth.

Spain did it all expertly, flicking his tongue perfectly inside the young man's mouth to grasp the smooth stem- not showing any hint of embarrassment or fault about kissing another man so obviously and passionately.

It was the Tango after all!

Australia on the other hand could of died of embarrassment, his face burning extremely hot. No.

Be cool Aus, it was all part of the dance. Sensual lovers. Sensual lovers.

Spain lifted him back up smoothly from their low dip and wasted no time having Australia's leg drop away before he twirled them around intimately once again.

"Almost there." He encouraged cheerfully; holding the young brunette's hand as he span him out of their close, sensual composure once again. This time the Spaniard releasing that calloused hand and let Australia go. Wobbly and spinning away from his partner, the Nation struggled to regain his slipping, twirling balance.

"Big finish my amigo!" Spain called supportively and Australia wasted no time throwing out his arms and twirling semi-gracefully to a halt a few meters away. He looked over at Spain, he had his hands in the air, his legs and toes pointed in a perfect finishing pose. A rose on his smiling lips.

"That is la Tango!" He confirmed, removing the rose as Australia approached him, breathing hard. "Or at least, la most simplistic moves for it!" He chucked as the younger lads face fell.

"For real!?" Australia groaned. "Mate, that was only a few _simple_ moves!?"

"Sí!" The olive skinned man nodded, offering the rose kindly to his young partner. "La Tango is a dance of many different, complex forms. We change la moves and their order to suit how the music effects us- how passionate our 'lover' drives us to be!" He explained as Australia accepted the beautiful flower, smelling it causally.

"So how passionate was our dance?"

"About a 3..."

"Oh..."

"Out of 10!"

"Hey!"

I let you stick you bloody tongue into my mouth. We practically made out! 3 my ass!

Spain laughed cheerfully at the Aussie's obvious annoyance. "Do not fret my amigo, we will keep practising!" He urged with a grin, extending his hand to the boy. "With some extra help from me, it may even become a 5 out of 10!"

Australia grinned at that, taking the offered appendage.

"Yeah right mate, I'm aiming for a top score!"

He placed the rose back into his mouth and settling back into their starting dance position. It was going to be a long, embarrassing day!

But at least he was having 'fun'.

...

SPAIIINNNNN! King of the passionate dance the Tango!

Man, I can just see poor Aus as a sputtering mess! Haha

Up next: I dunno! Maybe America? Or France? Or someone!?


	4. The Charleston

**The Charleston/Swing(kind of)** \- America

When Australia arrived at England's large, very old home that next day, he was surprised to find his dad in a rather sour mood. Granted, England had a knack for becoming quite high strung very quickly; but today was different.

Familiar.

The Brit seemed short tempered and annoyed as he walked his son down the long ornate hallway towards those large wooden doors containing the ballroom beyond.

This kind of mood could only mean one thing really, either France or America had decided to drop by and say G'day...or both. Those two wollys were the only ones capable of giving his dad frown lines that deep. Ok...those two and himself, but only when he let animals into the house...

Moving on.

England left him outside the door, grumbling a 'Goodbye my boy' as he stomped off in hasty retreat. Weird.

When Australia pulled oven those heavy doors and he caught sight of the tall, blond haired man, he grinned wildly.

America!

"America!"

The older man had been standing in front of the vast record shelf, his face screwed up in thought- choosing the perfect music. Upon hearing his name he turned, grinning widely.

"You bloody Yankee!" Australia roared happily, wasting very little time sprinting across the large ballroom to grasp the taller man's hand tightly and pull him in close for a hardy back slapping hug of affection. "How ya going mate!?"

The United States of America was one of his favourite people, the bloke may be a complete idiot with a hero complex sometimes; but he was one of the fantastic few who seemed to understand Aus perfectly(besides New Zealand)! The two had very similar, very strong energetic personalities that seemed to work well with each other (much to England's displeasure) and they always had each other's back, no matter what. In fact, Australia was sure he could even go so far as to say he 'loved' the big dag, crazy schemes and all.

I mean come on...Globo Man? Really mate?

"Hey you big dochebag! It's good to see you! I'm a hero soo I'm going super great right now!" America replied cheerfully as they finally released each other from their embrace. "I'm also here to teach you how to dance the _real_ way too, aren't you super totally excited!?"

"Bloody oath I am!" Australia just couldn't wipe away his wide grin as he watched the tall, strong blond turn and pull out a dusty record from the shelf and blow on it.

Dust and cobwebs littered the empty air space around them. They both sneezed.

"Man, these records are so gross! I'm surprised old England even has my dance music!" The Yank stated idly as he pulled the vinyl from its cover to place on the large, old Gramophone.

"Why are you surprised?" The younger brunette questioned, his hands falling to his slim hips as he watched the other man set up for the day.

"Old Iggy doesn't really consider my style of dancing to be his 'cup of tea'." America explained, looking over his broad shoulder to grin. Australia could relate to that, Dad could be very closed minded when it came to something that wasn't of his own creation. Like culture.

"He thinks it's too 'fast' to be classy- yeah right, it's just too super radical for him to understand!" He placed the big needle down onto the now spinning recorded. The great brass gramophone seemed to cough and sputter for a few short adjusting moments before very loud, very fast upbeat jazz music began filling the empty room. All trumpets, drums and saxophones, pianos and bass- it's fast, upbeat rhythm instantly infectious!

Australia let his hand drop as he listened, he like it; it was different and could always dance to different. He clapped his hands together expectingly as if to get started.

"Well, I've never been a huge fan of Tea m'self." He stated happily as he watched America shrug off his big airforce bomber jacket and throw it to a heap on the floor- out of the way.

"Me neither!" The Yank laughed, now pulling off his tan military uniform jacket and tie to join the other on the wooden floor. "Why do you think I dumped so much of it into the harbour!?" He chuckled at his own joke light heartily as rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his elbows. He even took of his own glasses and placed them gently aside!

All set and ready to get his groove on.

As the American approached the slightly shorter Aussie he had his arms wide, ready to take his calloused hands in his own. He pulled up just short of the brunette.

"You might want to take off your sunglasses dude- it's gonna get intense."

Australia did as he was told, removing his tinted sunnies from atop his head and placing them aside next to America's pair.

"What are we learning today mate?"

Surly it's not going to be _that_ intense. Well...it was America, it could be.

"The Charleston! And maybe a little bit of Swing if you can handle it!" America was grinning excitedly at the whole idea. It was kind of adorable, he was like a big Dingo pup.

Honestly, he had never heard of them, Charleston and Swing? Like what he does off the trees in the bush? It sounded kinda fancy to the wild Skippy, Charles was a fancy name after all...

How could England not like it, he loved fancy things!

But he didn't say that, he didn't want to hurt his mates' feelings, if that was even possible!

Australia joined happily as the Yank positioned himself into the centre of the ballroom, he cleared his throat over the loud, roaring tune of Ragtime Jazz.

"Ok dude, first we get into The Charleston starting position- it's like a super athletic type of stance, kind of like when you play football!" He explained before bending his knees and torso as he leaned forward slightly- he really did look like a footy player at the scrimmage line, weird.

Australia copied his movements perfectly, he knew how to play football very well.

"Sweet, now we just..." The blond trailed off in favour of a live demonstration. America's big hands began to rise up and down as if imitated the flap of a bird's big wings to the upbeat music before he began moving his legs to match their rhythm. He kicked backwards with his left leg before he shifted his weight quickly to the right. He then flicked the left leg out as of squashing something before he finally stood on it and did the exact same thing with the right! Then the Yank lifted his right knee up high before swinging it back and standing on his foot yet again. He repeated the steps with opposite flaps of his arms, even managing to swivel his hips! He was so fast and in perfect, amazing rhythm to the ragtime jazz music, it was amazing.

Weird looking for sure, but amazing none the less! The younger nation was in shocked awe. It looked so confusing!

Wait, what!? Hang on!

Australia's green eyes seemed to have trouble keeping up. Too right it was fast! Crikey!

America's feet and arms had become a super fast, rhythmic blur that seemed to blend and compliment that tune so perfectly. As his legs and arms danced his body up and down with each quick 'bop', he began moving forward and backwards expertly, even twisting his hips to create the illusion of extra bend and sway. He could understand now why the people performing the dance were called 'Flappers'.

It was incredible. Hard looking, but incredible!

The Aussie really had no idea of how to begin, so he just flicked his right leg out and attempted to follow the Yankee's crazy fast lead.

It was a lot harder then it looks.

As Australia flicked out his right leg in a copied kicking motion, the other left one seemed too impatient and flicked backwards too quickly, making the brunette almost do the splits instead of a step. Hm...

He tried once more. Kick the right leg, bring it back! Or did the left leg go back!?

He was confused.

America stopped his dancing to laugh at his friend, his eyes twinkling with mirth and his breathing surprisingly even despite all the crazy movement.

"Haha come on dude! It's super easy!" He encouraged cheerfully. "Just like, flick your legs and arms in the right order!"

Australia tried to, but he felt no rhythm or beat to guide him through the fast steps but instead an overwhelming sense of incoordination.

He stumbled and America laughed once more. Garrhhhh!

Why was this so bloody hard!? It was just stepping forward and back! His bandaided face flushed crimson with frustration and embarrassment, causing the taller nation to chuckle. Not helping mate!

Ok, America is seriously the WORST dance teacher ever!

"Here dude, take my hands!" America took a step forward and took both of the younger man's tanned hands into his own. "This should keep your balance! Now, follow each step I do!"

"Go slow!" Aus quickly interjected as both of their heads fell to look at their feet.

The blond did indeed go slow, performing each step and kick expertly so the the Aussie could repeat it.

Left back.

Switch weight.

Left forward kick.

Left down.

Right kick.

Right knee up.

Right back.

Right down.

Repeat.

In honesty, it was more like memory game then anything and after about the hundredth slow repeat of those steps, Australia felt comfortable enough to do it quickly. He would never admit to the Yank that he had to repeat the steps in his head so he didn't forget!

"Awesome dude! Looking good!"

Australia grinned up at the taller blond haired man. "What's the next part?"

Those hands did not let the young man go as the older nation smiled cheerfully. "Dude we're doing it! For this dance we hold hands and do the steps together!" He explained. "We kinda hold hands and dance around each other, next to each other and like, do spins out and shit!"

Oh. Ok sweet, more spins- not! At least he had a inhumanly strong partner, no need for panic.

"That's all?" Australia enquired with a raised brow, he felt like perhaps it was just a little too simple, surely there was more too it. America shrugged, dropping the Aussie's hands.

"Yeah dude, I mean we mix it up and stuff to keep it interesting but that's about it. It's super fast which is what makes it fun and radical to watch." America seemed to ponder his own answer before his eyes narrowed on the man standing in front of him mischievously. "Unless...do you wanna add some Swing into it?"

Australia's head cocked to the side curiously."Swing?" He questioned, eyes shining. "Is it hard? Do we need a tree?"

Aw, that was cute.

America couldn't help himself, he laughed hard at that, tears watering his eyes. "N-no dude, we don't need a tree. Swing is super fast and crazy fun! It's not hard at all!" He assured once he could breath correctly. Omg his lungs!

Weakly, the brunette seemed to shrug a 'sure why not' type of answer. "Ok...what do I need to do?"

The blond straightened up a grinned. "Not much! I do all the hard stuff! All you gotta do is hang on and let go when I say!" He offered his right hand out the the younger man who accepted it into his own curiously.

Swing didn't sound so bad, it kind of sounded like a lot of fun.

"Ok, Swing needs two people to dance it, there are heaps of different really fast moves but I'm just gonna teach you something way simple! To add to our Charleston!" He explained, lifting their joint hands high over the Aussie's head. "I want to to spin around before you let go and place both hands on my shoulders and jump up knees bent and together around my left side. Make sense dude? I'll swap the sides and do ALL the hard work, when I say it regrab both my hands. Simple."

It didn't sound simple. But...never the less, Aus was willing to give it a good shot. America could handle it for sure! He was the Hero after all.

"Just...hold on tight, and TRUST me dude."

Ok, that didn't sound ominous at all. The Skippy seemed to swallow hard.

Ok...let's do this.

Aus nodded and the older man wasted little time in getting started. He twirled Australia around by the hand gracefully a couple of times before nodding. "Nice and slow to start with...trust me man, don't fight it."

"I'll try mate."

The brunette placed both of his free hands onto that broad shoulders of his partner and took a breath. With his knees together and bent just like instructed, he jumped up to the man's left side.

Everything that happened next was a fast, disastrous blur.

Big, supportive hand found their way to hold the sides of Australia's waist and swing him from America's left to backwards and up high over the blond's head, then back down to his right side effortlessly. Jesus!

Australia squeaked at the surprise of it all, his hands now gripping onto the fabric of his partners shirt tightly.

"Get ready!" America called in concentration as he repeated the first great swing to the left. As he swung Australia high into the air over his head for the second time, he let go.

"Ahh!"

"Let go! Grab my hands dude!"

Oh, it was terrifying, to put it lightly. America was a very strong bloke indeed!

Australia's brain didn't quite register the command in time, he let go from the others' shoulders just fine, but grabbing America's hands while flying through mid air above him was almost impossible! He hesitated grabbing hold and as a disastrous result, he was a little late.

"Shit!"

America caught him on his way down, barely. The two lost their balance and fell forward, toppling down hard to the wooden floor in a heap.

Australia groaned at the Yankee's weight pinned on top of him, the older nation copied that groan before propping himself up onto his hands to stare down from above at the Skippy.

"Dude..." He began to accuse, voice low; his blue eyes boring into those green ones under him. "You totally blew it!" The Aussie grinned up at him.

"Sorry mate...my bad." He quipped, chuckling. "You scared the bloody sin right out of me when you let go!"

The tall blond groaned once more and rolled off the younger male, coming to lay next to him instead. They both just stared up at the ornate, kinda ugly ballroom ceiling together, trying to catch their shaky breath.

"...sorry, bad warning. I don't think Swing is really your thing Aus. Let's not do that again." He mumbled- his back was starting to ache and he groaned again, causing said wild man to chuckle. He might have a head injury...

"Let's not. I think I like the Charleston a lot more anyway." The Aussie replied happily. "There's less falling, and it's super easy! I'm basically an expert already."

This time it was America's turn to laugh. "Dude, we barely practiced. You know some steps, but we haven't even started on doing those steps _together."_

Oh. He was right _._

 _Whoops._

Comfortable silence seemed to settle around them as the two Nations just lay there side bye side, listening to the upbeat jazz tune. They had another hour or so left for their dance class, so they had really get into it. At this rate, Australia would have leant nothing but how to bop up and down and fall over.

Skills that wouldn't really be that useful on the dance floor...or anywhere.

The warm silence stretched onwards between them until Australia finally stretched out his arms to put under his head for a nap.

"...you're a really bad dance teacher mate." He stated seriously, not looking sidewards at the blond laying close beside him but instead shutting his eyes. America sighed and placed his own hands under his head in a copied movement, it wasn't a sad or annoyed sound, but one of mutual agreement.

"...I know dude, I know."

...

Because America and Australia WOULD get super distracted and be stupid together without 'adult' supervision! Hehe


End file.
